


Demon Lord

by KageSora



Category: Tales of Symphonia: Dawn of the New World
Genre: Afterlife, Demon lords, Hell, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:43:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8123992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KageSora/pseuds/KageSora
Summary: Richter had once referred to Ratatosk as a Demon Lord.  As it turns out, Ratatosk was not the blond who bore that title.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, I actually wrote this last year like almost a year ago, and somehow it never ended up cross-posted here. Oops? (Minor updates for better reading.)

Richter had once, in ages past, thought to call Ratatosk a Demon Lord.  This, he supposed later, had been foolish on his part–-he, after all, had possessed a closer link to the Demons himself.  He had bound himself to them, accepted their power, and used it to cause corruption and destruction around him in his quest to restore Aster to life.  It had been the work of another blond, one who bore Aster’s face and Ratatosk’s power, that had put a stop to his plans.  And it had been Ratatosk himself that had finally broken the hold the demons held upon his mind.

After all–-his power helped hold closed the gates of their prison and Richter accepted Ratatosk into himself when he acted as a host for the Core of the Summon Spirit.

Still, though he’d spent his remaining centuries when Ratatosk had freed him from his imprisonment working to improve the world that he had risked destroying, he never thought he could fully clean the blood from his past, that he could atone for his sins.

And so, when his aged body gave out, and his eyes opened to an infernal hellscape, he felt no surprise or shock–-merely resignation.  His soul, after all, was too steeped in blood to have a place in heaven.  He’d always assumed that, if there was something after death-–and, with Aster for a mate, how could he not have been infected by the belief of the blond?  Strengthened by the promise of the Demons to retrieve his soul and return it to life?–-he was destined for damnation.

What did surprise him, however, was that he wasn’t suffering.  There were no demons, no tortured souls of the other damned writhing and screaming in agony around him.  Instead, there was…  Emptiness?  The landscape couldn’t be considered anything but infernal-–a blasted wasteland colored in reds and blacks with shades of brown in between, jagged spires of stone rising from the cracked ground.  Steam and oddly colored mists hissing up from the fissures, strange glows radiating from some of the deeper crevices.  The sky above black with jagged streaks in oranges and reds cutting through it.  It was utterly inhospitable, not even a trace of life to be found.

Was this, then, what Hell was?  Eternal solitude, with nothing but the memories of his life and what he had lost–-and what he never would again have–-to keep him company throughout the eons?  Perhaps eventually slipping into madness–-or, worse, being denied the refuge of insanity, forced to keep his own mind sound and sane-–as he contemplated what fate befell his loved ones, searching this desolate realm for another being while praying they found gentler, more welcoming places awaiting them for their eternal rest?

A fitting punishment, then, for one who had driven away those who would have befriended him.  He had tried to kill Emil in the end, though the boy had been innocent.  Aster’s blood had never stained that one’s hands, for had he existed in his own right when Aster had been struck down, he would not have permitted Ratatosk to feel no remorse for his crime, would have tried to stop such an act of pointless destruction from happening.  He had rejected Aqua’s advances-–even those that were purely platonic and not romantic and driven by her infatuation with him.  He had used and abused the Vanguard when he could have had allies instead of tools.

Aster, even, he had tried to push away at first.  Had the other not been so persistent, their friendship–-and, eventually, romance–-could never have come to be.

Richter stood, contemplating what to do.  Perhaps forging ahead, exploring these strange surroundings would be best?  Or would it do more to simply pick the least uncomfortable-looking spot to sit and to allow his thoughts to wander where they would?  He took a steps forwards, deciding on exploring for a bit before settling in to his fate when a strange burst of heat and light came from behind him.  Whirling around, it took a moment for his eyes to fully take in the sight before him–-and another moment still for his mind to comprehend what he was witnessing.  A sickening feeling began to claw at his insides, his stomach twisting and his heart sinking as he recognized the one who stood before him.

Green eyes peered shyly up from beneath blond bangs, that too-familiar gaze marred by the slitted pupils within them.  The black with blue and gold trim remained, but gone was the odd tube-like top that flared out into an almost-skirt and the elbow-length gloves.  A shirt, a tank top really, adorned the torso of the young man before him-–older now than when Richter had last seen him heading to the surface to live his life, but still clearly youthful.  (Richter realized, in the back of his mind, that the same could be said for himself: though he couldn't see his reflection he sensed as much.)

Mimicking the appearance of the gloves he once wore were blackened marks upon his skin, though they twisted up past the elbows in graceful swirls that came to delicate pointed ends midway between the elbow and the shoulder.  From the shoulders themselves swirled down black patterns, leaving a small band of visible, lighter-colored flesh between them, then whirling up into small growths that appeared similar to crudely carved spikes of stone though they were of no recognizable substance that Richter had ever laid eyes upon.

From the pale hairs upon his head extended two horns, smooth and pushing out from sides of the top of his head slightly before curling backwards and tilting up slightly.  Movement, quick and twitchy, drew Richter’s gaze lower, noting the pants, at least remained the same though the footwear had been replaced by black boots that flared up and towards the backs with the same sort of spiky swirls present on the marks upon the arms of the demon–-and it broke his heart to think such a word for one with this face but the demonic nature of this entity was undeniable-–though trimmed in gold.  A cat-like tail that flared out into a pointed tip moved uneasily behind the creature as a halting, achingly familiar voice escaped lips that parted just enough to reveal small fangs.

“R-Richter…?”

“…Emil.”

The gaze of the other lit upon the utterance of his name, despite the flat tone it was spoken with.

“Y-you do recognize me!  I-I’m so glad!”

Richter narrowed his eyes, holding his silence for a moment longer than was polite before continuing the that same mostly flat tone, though a hint of distaste crept in to color it.

“I presume, demon, that you assumed and twisted his form to torment me?”

Emil took a step back, hurt clearly plain on his face before he shook his head.  His own tone held sadness but also acceptance.  After all,such a reaction was to be expected from one first awakening to find themselves in hell.

“N-no!  It’s me, r-really me!”

Richter’s voice held a cold edge as he spoke, the volume somewhere halfway to a shout, his patience slipping already.

“Lies!  You think I would believe one such as Emil could end up  _here_ of all places?!”

This did have the effect of silencing the demon, but not for the reasons Richter would have liked.  Moments stretched by as a pained, contemplative look took over the features of the beast before him.

“…I can’t explain it all…  B-but…  I was brought here…  When I died.  I w-was made a demon… Th-the Demon Lord can make deals with those in heaven…  A-and he claimed my soul…”

Richter didn’t believe a word of that.  Why should he?  A demon would lie, of course.  A demon would say whatever it felt it must in order to get to him, to hurt him.  He was here to suffer, after all.  It’s what hell was, right?

The demon-Emil looked away for a moment, before returning his gaze to Richter and a note of determination worked it’s way into his voice and the way he held himself and the set of his face.  "He s-sent me to get you.  I p-promise that Hell isn’t anything like what y-you’re expecting it is.  H-he’s changed a lot of things since he rose to power…  That was almost 2,000 years ago…  Time doesn’t m-mean as much here, because we’re here forever, but…  Well, if you’re here…  Unless you d-died young…?“

Richter remained silent.  There was no need to further speak with this entity, and instead he turned on his heel and headed off in the opposite direction.  Ignoring the startled yelped laced with his name he continued on until he found his arm gripped far more tightly than the Emil he knew could ever have been capable of, stopping him.

"R-Richter…  You…  Don’t actually have a choice.  You’re coming with me.”

Richter turned to argue but the sounds died in his throat at the sight of the inky blackness rising from the back of the blond and shaping into bat-like wings.  "Sorry…  The teleportation thing is…  For demons only.  You can’t do that yet.  But I-I’ve had a lot of time to practice!  I’m really good at carrying people!“

Emil didn’t even give him a chance to respond before he found himself swept off his feet and the blond crouching and leaping into the air with him.  Clutching Richter to his chest, Emil spread his wings and beat them down strongly as he launched upwards, unsteady for mere seconds before he leveled out, soaring over the wasteland below.

"Y-you actually arrived pretty far out.  We’re on the edges of the hellscape…  Even before the current Demon Lord took over, it was pretty deserted here.  It actually…  B-borders Niflheim.  That’s h-how the D-Demon Lord came and took over…”

Richter continued his silence, clutching tightly to the shirt of the demon.  It was an instinctive action as he watched the wasteland below slip by in a blur.  When at last he noticed a change-–the scenery below becoming less rough and more uniform--he realized that the demon was slowing a bit.  Looking up his breath caught in his chest, eyes going wide.

Rising up on the horizon and approaching swiftly was a city, unmistakable buildings with lights twinkling within them.  Angular shapes rising high above the ground, smaller ones spreading outwards he saw below as they soared over the walls.  The buildings were carved of black stone, almost looking to be obsidian except for what looked like crack patterns of pulsing red and orange and a strange pale green or blue at times.  And yet, as they soared between the rearing blocks windows were visible, and occasionally a figure–-they moved too swiftly for any details to be noted-–moved within.

Towards what Richter assumed was the center rose another structure.  Curved, twisting spires of the same dark stone, though this time with large swirls of white material seamlessly woven in, rising up into the sky: a domed building at the center of these towers.

It was before this building that the Emil-demon landed, carefully setting him down and letting him find his own way to his feet as he turned to address another demon, this with markings of a fiery red upon her skin.  "I’ve brought Richter–-the new soul the D-Demon Lord asked for.“

A brisk nod and the Emil-demon was ushering Richter into a room between the pair of large, ornate doors that had swung open without any visible command or effort.

"He’ll be happy to see you-–well, not happy, I mean…  He d-didn’t want you to end up here, but th-then again he pulled me here…  But I think…  It’s because he knew you’d end up here, even if you didn’t deserve it.  It’s…  It’s not something that living people really know, but it happens sometimes.  A p-person who belongs in Heaven ends up here, because they don’t let themselves have peace.  Th-they usually end up crossing over later though…  It’s called the p-purgatory effect…”

“So purgatory in’t a separate realm after death?”

The Emil-demon shook his head.  "No.  It’s part of Hell–-just a temporary part of it.“

Emil-demon moved away from Richter to knock soundly on a large golden door.  Richter himself was rather surprised by the lively colors within the palace-–it was clear that palace it was-–but he kept his eyes upon the blond before him, struggling to suppress his growing suspicion that the demon hand’t lied, and that this was, in fact, what fate had befallen Emil.  The idea was a bitter, distasteful one, and he wasn’t eager to believe it.

At least, not until the doors opened, and his gaze swept up the room to land upon the black and gold throne and the figure lazing upon it, a bored expression fading from his features as his eyes landed upon Richter himself.

Richter barely had time to take in the similarity in appearance-–minus the outfit, on this demon consisting of a black coat in a familiar style trimmed with more gold, a familiar red-and-black shirt, though the boots were more akin to what Emil-Demon wore–-before the being sprang to his feet and charged forwards, lunging forwards to crash into him, knocking them both to the ground.  A joyful cry of "RICHTER!” echoed in his ears, painfully familiar, and it wasn’t until he felt the twitch of the demon’s tail that he realized he had gripped him tightly and whispered the name he hadn’t uttered in over 1000 years.

“Aster…”

The Demon Lord pressed against him, hugging him, burrying his face in Richter’s chest.

“It…  It really  _is_ me, Richter.  I promise.  I know it’ll take you a while to accept that, but… it IS me.”

The ache in his heart was too much, he wanted to believe too strongly, that this  _was_ his Aster, truly…  But that couldn’t be.  Aster had no reason to end up in such a place as this.

“How…”

When the demon-Aster had pulled back, the smile he gave Richter was a small and sad one.  "I…  Think you should be sitting down somewhere a little more comfortable for this.“

With that, he carefully extracted himself from Richter’s grip, offering another smile at the involuntary whimper that escaped the redhead.  He held out his hand, grasping the gloved one that came up to meet it, and pulled Richter to his feet.

"Emil, you’ll be coming too, of course~,” demon-Aster said with a lighthearted tone as he beamed at Richter then looked back to Emil.  He frowned a little, and when Richter turned to look as well he felt a wave of guilt surge within him.

Demon-Emil was watching with a mixed expression of longing and resignation.  Richter was no stranger to the way the blond had felt about him in life.  Emil may have thought he’d done a good job of hiding it but it was pitifully obviously.  Honestly, Richter never understood how even Marta was able to fail to see that Emil had been in love with him.  Something about the genuine appearance of the emotions made Richter want to believe this was honestly Emil, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to do so.

“Are…  You sure, Aster?  You…  You two should probably have s-some time to yourselves…”  Even the tone was the same quiet, uncertain one Richter had become familiar with Emil using when he had been scolded.

“Nonsense!  Richter needs you, too!  I made sure your soul ended up here for a reason!  You’re not letting Richter out of your sight from now on, got it?!”

Richter started at that, putting the pieces together, and frowning.  He should have realized it sooner, between what Emil ( _demon_ -Emil, not the actual Emil, he had to remind himself) had said earlier and the clear implications of everything that Aster ( _demon-_ Aster, he again had to remind himself) was the ruler of this part of Hell.  But why would Aster-–not that this was actually Aster, of course–-force Emil into Hell?

Still, he kept silent rather than voicing his questions.  Instead he followed the blonds–-one gripping either hand of his and leading him along–-deeper into the palace.  Twisting hallways and corridors with soaring ceilings formed a maze that he couldn’t hope to navigate on his own, though the trip didn’t pass in silence.

The demon-Aster was rambling, mostly just talking about the way Hell works changing since he took over.  There was a lot less torturing the damned these days and a lot more just letting evil bastards deal with each other since that’s basically torture enough.  Those who committed lesser sins-–especially those who were in a purgatorial stay rather than a permanent one (and the inhabitants of Hell seemed to be able to sense this with some degree of reliability though it was far from 100% accurate)--tended to be allowed to live in cities such as this one, though this was the “capital” city, as it were: the seat of the Throne of Hell, where the most powerful of the Demon Lords ruled from.

It changed over every so often, though demon-Aster had held power for quite a long time for a mortal-born demon.  Finally, though, they entered into a lavish room.  Such comforts at one time had been limited to the demons of the realm, those entities who existed with the purpose of punishing the damned.  The idea of Hell not being entirely unpleasant was something strange to Richter, and it must have shown upon his face for demon-Aster seemed to take it upon himself to explain it.

“To be completely honest, a big part of the torment of Hell for a lot of the damned souls here isn’t so much the whole ‘burning in hellfire/being tortured by demons/etc.’ kind of thing.  It’s the 'I will exist eternally and never be near my loved ones again/I will never be able to do anything I enjoyed again/I will never know peace or happiness’ kind of thing.  The solitude drives some souls mad, others clash with each other.  There’s definitely torturing and burning in Hellfire and all that, too.  But that tends to be given to the 'worst’ of the damned.  Which changes depending on the whims of whoever’s in charge.  Mostly it’s the knowing that there’s a place of happiness and peace that they’ll never be in is enough punishment.”

Demon-Emil chimed in, though shyly and as if uncertain if he should speak.

“And…  H-honestly…  M-most of the souls here don’t stay here forever…”

Demon-Aster nodded.  "Yep!  There’s very little overall that can net you absolute eternal damnation.  Honestly one of the biggest reasons souls end up here forever is they can’t hold on to who they are as they atone for their sins.  Sometimes they become demons, sometimes they destroy each other-–yes, souls can be destroyed!  Very explode-y and lots of glowing and stuff, rather pretty honestly–-sometimes they trap themselves here by losing their sense of self.  That’s really the trick to making it out.  Keep yourself from losing your mind, and endure.“

Richter found himself steered towards a nice bed, being pushed down on it, and a blond climbing up beside him on each side.  Demon-Aster spoke again, Richter turning to face him.

"So.  You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here, huh?”

Richter nodded.  Sure, he didn’t quite fully believe that this was  _his_ Aster still but it never hurt to heat what it had to say…  Right?  Hadn’t he already had dealings with demons in the past?  (A part of him recognized that even  _listening_ to a demon was dangerous, but he squashed that part of his mind, choosing instead to focus on the familiar sound of Aster’s voice.)

“Well, that’s…  Richter, please understand that I don’t blame you.  Not at all, okay?  I don’t blame you because you weren’t in your right mind at the time.  And everything’s okay now anyway.  So please, don’t feel too bad.”

Richter frowned.  That didn’t sound good, and it make him uneasy.  He was suddenly not sure if he wanted to keep listening.  But it wasn’t as if he had any means of silencing a Demon Lord.

“It…  Was sort of your fault, Richter.  When the demons of Niflheim saw you attack Ratatosk, they captured my soul and held it.  That’s how they could promise to bring me back to life.  But when you betrayed them and worked with Ratatosk to seal them away…  They cast me across the barrier between Niflheim and this place.  The two realms are actually very closely related.  I’d actually argue that Hell is a specific subsection of Niflheim…”

Aster trailed off, seeing that Richter wasn’t honestly listening and was instead looking at him with shock and horror upon his face, draining it of some of his usual color and bringing tears to his eyes.

He reached up, fingers brushing along the skin of Richter’s face and smiled.  "It’s okay, Richter.  I could have escaped.  I wasn’t going to be stuck here for long.  But…  But I knew you’d end up here.  You can’t let go of guilt easily, even when you’re not at fault.  You blamed yourself for my death, even going so far as to claim to have killed me at one point even when you were innocent…  So I wanted to be here for you, but I was afraid of what would happen if you  _did_ manage to fail to turn yourself around…

“I…  Didn’t want to have to move on if you somehow managed to remain here forever, Richter.  So I took over.  Souls have  _power_ here, Richter.  It’s generally pretty weak, and demons outclass them easily.  But I was  _never_ meant for Hell.  Those, like me, that end up here by some kind of horrific mistake have a  _lot_ of power.  Demons can’t properly touch us, even after we adopt their traits into ourselves.  I may be a demon now, but I’m still damn strong!

"Emil too, actually!  I know you care about him, I know how much you missed him…  So I brought him here, and trained him myself.  So we could be here for you, Richter.”

Emil was nodding, leaning against Richter and the redhead turned to face the younger demon as he spoke.

“Aster protected me, Richter.  He kept me safe after bringing me here.  And…  He didn’t keep me here agaisnt my will.  I could have moved on properly.  But I stayed…  Because I missed you, Richter…”

Unspoken by either blond but clear to Richter was the other motivator they held for effectively taking over Hell.   _Love_.  He whispered it aloud, glancing between them.  "Because…  You love me.“

Emil nodded and Aster spoke again.  "Love’s a real strong source of power here, Richter.  Hate’s much more common, actual genuine love is rare.  And that’s why none have been able to match us.  We’re here willingly, because we love you.  And we wanted to wait for you.  Because…  We didn’t want you to be alone, Richter.”

Emil’s voice joined with Aster’s.  "Never again.  You’ll never be alone again.“

And Richter looked between the two, certain now that this wasn’t some trick or dream, and began to laugh as he wrapped his arms around his blonds, pulling them to him and holding them tightly.

"I never thought it would be possible to find Heaven in Hell.”

 


End file.
